


Ivan and the White Flame

by serpent_and_wyrm



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Nightmares, chibi russia, white flame, young russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpent_and_wyrm/pseuds/serpent_and_wyrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan has an unsettling dream...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ivan and the White Flame

Ivan stood in a room with a mirror. Nothing else, just white walls and one large glittering mirror. White fog crawled up its icy surface. Despite himself, he wiped away the condensation with the palm of his black-gloved hand. A purple eye, a pinkish nose, a lock of beige hair, a round face came into view. Ivan polished the last corner of the mirror, then stared at his reflection. Instead of the simple walls that surrounded him, the mirror showed a dark forest. The trees were black silhouettes against the grey sky, and the floor was a blanket of white. A child, a boy, stood up to his knees in snow. He hugged himself, shivering beneath his tattered scarf and jacket. The boy looked up, tears welling up in his purple eyes.  
“Help me,” he whispered, pressing a mitten on the transparent wall that trapped him.  
Ivan, long ago, had pledged to discard his emotions. He had tried to leave them behind, but they followed him like a cloud of gnats. And this child, contained within himself…  
He threw himself at the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. The shards hovered in the air for a moment, sparkling in an unseen light, before crashing to the ground. They landed in a circle, surrounding a flame that came from nowhere. It was bright white.  
Ivan fell to his knees; tears pouring down his cheeks, making his purple eyes red and puffy. His scarf, no longer tattered, reached out to the fire, embraced it, pulled it towards him. There was no escaping it. He would never escape the white flame.

Morning light crawled through the window. The ends of a white scarf covered the nation’s face, dimming it to a faint beige glow. He opened his eyes, brushed away the fabric, and sat up. For a moment he felt bare, vulnerable. Like the boy in the mirror.  
If he listened hard enough, silenced his breath and moved not a muscle, Ivan could hear sobbing. It came from one of the Baltics, most likely Raivis or Toris. Slowly, with the sound of sadness, a purple aura crept across the room. It surrounded him, a warm blanket of darkness. He didn’t even know. But suddenly he felt complete, and the white flame retreated to the center of his heart where no one would ever find it.


End file.
